" The one she loved was not me, It's the fictitious posture of my autopsy. "

For the first time she saw me naked
She took the brush and repainted
Her journal full of memories was shredded
She paced back and I was deleted

There she thought I was not thee
Lies on the leaves in a wrong tree
There growed her love like a pea
Where now she cut with full of acrimony

Under the endearing man she saw
Was a man hiding its claw
I wasn't the man that she draw
So the first time I was naked, she quits and withdraw

She didn't give me the chance to spoke
My first confession, for her, it's a joke
I started living of what she pictures
My soul was chained and is completely devour

And now,

I showed her I can't give her gold
I can't be the man that's worth if sold
I'm a man without confidence and cold
I'm a man caged in cell, lost in the dark caused by it's blindfold

Lex Dec 6

For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

And they died happily ever after.
The end.
Charlotte Dec 4

In English,
we’re learning about
Winston and Julia
in 1984, but
it’s 2017
all I want to study is

I want to study less
about the
control and freedom
Big Brother has
and more about
the calculation of your

I want to study the way
your knuckles could be an
infant’s home, small
hands reaching out
longing for you
or the way the veins in
your arm makes abstract art,
beautiful enough to be showcased
in any gallery.

I understand now why they say
“as pretty as a painting.” Because
you’re as timeless and
breathtaking as
Mona Lisa.

And your blue iris's,
swirl with dark and light
tones with a slight
a golden glint,
I could stare into them for longer
than any
Starry Night.

I’m just better suited to an art class.
I want to learn the primaries
so I can swirl them all together and
get your dark brown hair.
I want to add the most expensive
white, so I can paint the
faint freckles on your nose and

I want to mix blue and red adding water
until the colour is a perfect match
for the faintest birthmark
on your shoulder.

Instead of the History of Russia,
I want to learn the History
of you.
I want to learn what makes you smile
and what makes you cry.

I want to study you,  
I use each brush stroke to
perfect your skin,
each pen writes down
notes until
I have a whole book
full of each heartbreak,
so I can learn a lesson
in you.

Samuel Nov 13

You could have been mine.
You could have been all ours,
we Children of the Dark.
But the Angles came
imposing their own as supreme,
though so tainted by French.

But like our myths you stand strong
in a way.
Few speak you, know you,
but you are you.
Not pure for none are,
but you are you,
just like our tales of old
which you sang so high.
The Angles came, but you remain.

It seems like i'm walking in circles,
whenever I  think about life.

"Live life to the fullest" they said.
"You only live once" they said.
I could not understand.

I did not understand,
what they were telling me,
what my parents were telling me,
until the moment came,
and they were gone.

Now, I had realized,
what they were saying:
Enjoy the company of your loved ones,
while the'yre inching to the thousand suns.

Be grateful for everything and everyone
for there is no time to hate and be alone.

There is no time to dwell on regrets,
the "should've's" and "would've's."

Concentrate on the "what now?" and "where to?"
on this Earth which you call home,
on this Earth where everything seems like an illusion.

For you will never know the end
until you've lost everything.
You will never know the end
until you've tried your best and gained nothing.

Whenever I  think about life,
It seems like i'm walking in circles.

impromptu poem

In standard Arabic,
we call the pointers
of a clock
which translates
to Scorpions.

In our dialect,
we call them
which translates
to Dancer.

is just
a dance
of scorpions.

And her eyes
upon the
of my fingers
on the table.

While she looks
at me
in this restaurant
telling me white lies
about Time
and how
it caresses
our wounds.

that Time
only inflicts

she knows that
my longing
is not drowned
by the waiting.

Still Time
at my

Be careful
you might
get bitten.

One man Oct 31

Fear I may be less man more beast
as this is not natural to me at least
Used to hundreds of image's a time
now think in words to try to rhyme

To adapt and try this is my choice
but usually I have no inner voice
Instead of images to re arrange
to think in words it feels so strange

I hear talk yet my mouth doesn't move
as I try to word the words so smooth
For me this isn't easy it is a fight
to stop pictures appearing as I write

Writer I am not nor poet neither
in fact what I am can be no clearer
Ape in clothing and under educated
We know it's fact and now it's stated

These words I still now try to create
But please remember as I did state
This isn't easy all though no exam
but only hairless Humanzee I am

© One man

I am trying despite this being difficult to me
Hasani Oct 23

O I have been waiting for thee
I've felt the wretch of winter
I've even whimpered
Wishing for a warm breeze

You had me on my knees
Begging for you to come my way
And you did!
You did indeed!

Now it's short shorts
And tight dresses
Have me on natures edges
Setting the mood for the year

I prayed and I prayed
Now you've finally answered
Giving a blissful feeling
For you're finally here.

Written spring 2017 by Hasani.
Cherisse May Oct 15

a poem at night

Your hands
Intertwined in mine
The feeling of warmth, safety,
And a whole lot of 'paasa'.

Your smile
Directed at me
Dimples showing, eyes twinkling
And a whole lot of 'pakyu'.

Your voice
Laughter filling the air
As your mouth speaks with sweet words and promises;
Also a whole lot of 'sino’ng ginagago mo'.

Angel Agaton Oct 14

If you would get to see my mind
You would see how hard I try
How hard I try to put different masks on everyday
Just to feel alright.

You would get to hear how i'm battling myself
How I plan my own death every night
And how hard it is for me to forget that there are people
People who love, and care for me.

You would get to feel, feel what I've been feeling
The sadness inside me, i'm slowly getting used to it
The battles inside me are endless
And you, you would die inside my mind

My mind is so deep, deep as the ocean
So many endless battles, between me and society
These oceans you can't swim
Because you care less
And even the people close to me
Can't notice these oceans inside me

So I wrote this poem randomly because I've been battling depression ever since I was a kid. The thought of me not being understood by the people that are close to me and the people that I love really breaks me the most. Also, I've tried so hard to make those people happy in many ways but the only thing they give back to me is more heartbreaking.  till now, I still suffer from it and this is a battle that the only winning solution is to feel the people who are suffering from this state to. Depression isn't just a word, it's more than that. I WILL not quit this battle. I will fight and I know I can.
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